Gemotions

The opening night was a blur of faces and hushed conversations. He, Alex, took a deep breath, the scent of expensive perfume and freshly baked bread filling his lungs. He found himself grinning, a wide, unstoppable grin. His photographs, unauthorized but undeniably his, lined the walls of the small, independent coffee shop. The gallery owner, a young woman with bright red lipstick, was effusively introducing him to everyone.

Alex felt like he was floating. He had kept his work a secret, hidden away in a digital portfolio, unsure of its worth. And now? People were actually *looking* at his work, *talking* about his work, *admiring* his work.

“Magnificent composition!” a critic said, raising a brow. Alex simply nodded, enjoying his moment in the sun.